


A Path Out of the Wilds

by violasarecool



Series: What Can 8 Grey Wardens Do? [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Backstory, Banter, Canon Compliant, Gen, Korcari Wilds, Party Camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5517545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violasarecool/pseuds/violasarecool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the warden and his companions are finally leaving the wilds. morrigan and alistair argue constantly, cerberus (the dog) is everyone's favourite, and quentin has more patience than i would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Path Out of the Wilds

The day passed quickly as Quentin, Cerberus, Alistair, and Morrigan made their way out of the Korcari Wilds for the second time, Morrigan leading despite Alistair's protests.

"Do you _really_ trust that witch not to lead us to our deaths?" Alistair demanded.

"If she wanted to kill us, why would her mother rescue us?" Quentin pointed out.

"I don't know."

"I do have ears, you know," Morrigan called, stopping a few paces ahead. "I can hear you. But if you'd _prefer_ to spend a few days lost in the wilds because you're afraid your guide is going to drown you in the swamp, by all means, be my guest." They glanced at each other, and she crossed her arms. "No? Then hurry up and stop whining. I'd like to put some distance between us and my mother before nightfall." She stalked off, and Quentin and Alistair hurried after her.

"Doesn't like her mother much," Quentin murmured.

Alistair shrugged. "Neither do I. Though I could do without either of them, honestly."

Quentin watched Morrigan up ahead, quickly traversing the boggy land. "She's getting ahead of us."

"You'd think she was trying to lose us," Alistair said. "Could you slow down a bit?" he called. "Some of us are trying not to get stuck in the bog!"

Morrigan turned. "Maybe _some of us_ should accept their fate," she said, waiting for them to catch up.

" _Some of us_ didn't just escape certain death by a massive darkspawn hoard," he muttered.Cerberus bounded along beside Quentin and Alistair. "Same goes for you," Alistair said, but he reached down and petted the dog.Cerberus pushed his head against Alistair's hand, then jumped up at him when he stopped petting him. "Woah there," Alistair laughed. "Ok, ok, don't stop petting, got it." Ahead, Morrigan rolled her eyes.

Quentin watched them fondly. "You have too much energy," he said to the mabari. Cerberus looked up at him, tongue lolling. "Yes, you. Where do you get it all?"

"Dogs are just excited to be _alive,_ " Alistair said, grinning. "And if you act excited, they just play along." He looked down at Cerberus. "Even though you have no idea what I'm saying, do you?" he crooned at the dog. He dropped into a semi-crouch and clapped his hands. "Do you, boy?" Cerberus barked and spun around to face him, butt in the air, tail wagging. "Who's a good boy?"

"Not you, that's for sure," Morrigan said.

Alistair straightened, affronted. "That's not very nice, he's doing his best―" He met her gaze, and narrowed his eyes. "Oh, ha ha, _I'm_ not a good boy? It's a good thing my sense of self worth isn't based on _your_ approval."

"That _is_ good, well done," she said dryly.

Quentin glanced at Alistair, biting back a grin. Alistair only shook his head.

They started walking again, down a gentle incline towards some ruins. Cerberus trotted up to sniff at Morrigan's ankles. "What are you doing, you ridiculous dog?" She stepped out of the way, only for him to wind around her other side.

"Cerberus!" Quentin called, and Cerberus's ears pricked up. "Leave Morrigan alone." Cerberus whined, but tore away from Morrigan, and came running back to Quentin.

Alistair tapped Quentin's shoulder. "If I'm not mistaken―"

"And you probably are," Morrigan said.

Alistair ignored her. "Are we almost at Ostagar?"

Morrigan glanced up ahead. "Fairly close, yes."

"So I _wasn't_ wrong," Alistair said smugly.

"Yes, your 'times Alistair has said something that's not completely stupid' streak is at an all time high!"

"How about 'times Morrigan has said something _nice'?"_ Alistair shot back."Oh, wait, that's still at zero."

"You know what, let me add to that. Cerberus, you are a _very good dog._ " Cerberus barked at her.

Alistair made an exasperated face at her. "Oh, so you'll be nice to the _dog._ "

"The dog deserves it," Morrigan shrugged.

Quentin sighed.

They stopped at Ostagar to pick up some supplies, then decided to start on their way to Lothering before nightfall. The road was quiet, and they walked in silence for a stretch, dirt and rocks crunching under their feet, wind stirring the grass and swirling dust around their ankles. As evening came, wispy clouds began to stretch further across the sky, covering both moons before they had a chance to fully appear. By the time the sky was turning a deep blue, there was scarcely enough light to see a few yards down the road in front of them.

"I think we should set up camp soon," Quentin said. "It's getting dark."

Morrigan made a motion with her hands, and a purple flame appeared, floating in her palm. "And?"

Quentin flicked his hand, and a yellow flame appeared in his palm. " _And,_ if we keep walking, it's going to take half the night to reach Lothering, conjured light or not. If we set up camp, we should be able to reach Lothering by noon tomorrow."

Morrigan shrugged, her features pale and gaunt in the flickering purple light. "I forgot, you _Wardens_ aren't used to travelling long stretches."

"That's not true," Alistair said, "Wardens sometimes march for days _._ " He glanced at Quentin. "Although mages don't get out as much. Best to know your limits."

"Mm." She stopped, and Alistair nearly walked into her. "Shall we?"

They found a flat patch of ground not far off the road, and began to unpack the tents. Morrigan retreated a few yards off and unrolled a sleeping roll. Quentin glanced over at her, frowned, then stood, and made his way over. "Hey, do you not have a tent?" he asked, watching as she seated herself on the bedroll, purple flame floating beside her. "You can use mine if you need one."

Morrigan raised her eyebrows. "I'm flattered, but I prefer sleeping out in the open."

"Uh," Quentin's face flushed, "no no, I didn't mean―"

"No, you didn't, did you," Morrigan said, giving him a pensive look. "Well, spare me your chivalry. Go set up your own tent."

Quentin turned to go, then paused, and turned back.

"Go on, off with you," Morrigan said.

"Sorry, one more thing," Quentin said, and Morrigan sighed. "I'm putting up silencing wards on my tent. So if something happens, if we get attacked during the night, just say 'Orlesian coal' and they'll deactivate."

"Silencing wards?" Morrigan asked, smirking. "To silence the noises outside your tent or _inside?"_

Quentin frowned at her. "Outside. They're so I can sleep."

"The great outdoors is too noisy for you poor little tower mage?"

Quentin snorted. "The tower's only quiet when something's not _exploding._ But yes, essentially. Are we good?"

"Oh, excellent." She waved her hand, and the purple fire went out, leaving them in darkness. Quentin shook his head and went back to where his own flame flickered above their half-formed tents. He relayed the same information to Alistair as they set up their tents.

"Orlesian kohl?" Alistair asked.

Quentin shot him a glance. "Orlesian coal. The kind you burn."

"The kind you burn to smoke?"

"The kind that hopefully _doesn't_ smoke when you burn it," Quentin said, grinning.

Alistair laughed. "So what happens if I'm thinking of the wrong kind when I say it?"

Quentin opened his mouth, then closed it. He narrowed his eyes. "I don't _think_ it should affect it." He ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't think of that."

Alistair covered his mouth with his hand, eyes squeezed tight with suppressed laughter. "And here I never thought a pun could be dangerous. You _are_ full of surprises."

"It shouldn't be _dangerous_ ," Quentin protested. "It just... might not work." He made a face. "The nature of magic itself is telling me not to try to be funny."

"Well, I can't help you there," Alistair said, grinning. "But we can always test it. Do you need to finish your tent first?"

Quentin shook his head. He raised his arms, and made a sweeping motion, and a shower of sparks erupted into the air, dissipating as they floated down.

Alistair looked at Quentin. "Ready?" Quentin nodded. "Orlesian kohl." Almost immediately there was a high-pitched screeching noise. "Andraste! What―"

Quentin quickly waved his hands again and the screeching noise stopped.

"What are you two _doing_ over there?" Morrigan called. "Are you trying to catch the attention of every darkspawn in a two mile radius?"

"Sorry," Quentin called back.

"What was that?" Alistair demanded.

"I, uh, used to use that ward in the Circle, in case of emergencies," he said sheepishly. "It was never set off, but hypothetically the loud noise would wake me up, and get the attention of everyone else. I can disable the noise."

Alistair snorted. "That's probably a good idea. So it did work, just now?"

"Yeah. You were thinking of―"

"Pipeweed? Yes. Why did you use  _that_ as your... safeword, I guess?"

"It was a joke," he shrugged. "They made it clear pretty early on that they wouldn't put up with drinking or smoking in the tower. Mages still did, though. I thought it was funny."

"Not bad." Alistair reached for the tent peg hammer, and set about knocking in the last couple of pegs. "And no one ever set it off as a joke?"

"If you knew the students I was roomed with, you wouldn't even ask that question," Quentin said wryly. "I'm glad they were quiet, but they were _so_ _boring."_

Alistair laughed. "I'm glad you're not, anyway. Mages always seem like such a stern, imposing lot."

"Some of them are. Especially when you don't know them―Irving seemed about as welcoming as a stone wall the first few months I lived in the Circle."

"I... can see that," Alistair said. "He's a good man, though."

"Yes," Quentin said, smiling, "and an excellent teacher. But pretty stern when he wants to be, and not very talkative. Mind you," he glanced at Alistair, "the templars aren't too _friendly_ either."

Alistair raised his hands defensively. "Don't look at me, I wasn't cut out for being a templar, I can't speak for them."

"Well, I'm definitely biased, but I always found the humans holding swords over our heads more foreboding than the mages trying not to light the library on fire."

Alistair laughed. "By the Maker, that's something I'd like to see."

"It's entertaining, that's for sure," Quentin said. "I have no idea why they allow practical magic lessons in the library, but it's happened more than once, and it's worth it every time to see the templars rush in thinking something serious is happening when some apprentice doesn't know how to cast a basic primal spell." He shook his head, smiling at the distant landscape. "One time, there was this huge crash from in the library, and Greagoir ran in, followed by a couple of mages, and found the library floor _covered_ in shattered ice, and huge icicles hanging from the ceiling." Quentin looked Alistair in the eye, eyes bright with mirth. "Greagoir got a faceful of a minor freezing spell as he ran in."

"No," Alistair breathed, grinning widely.

"He was furious," Quentin laughed. "There were icicles coming off his eyebrows, and nose, caked in his beard, snow all over his shoulders... I thought he was going to kill me."

"Wait," Alistair said, eyes wide, "you?"

"Oh," Quentin grinned. "I usually tell this story as a bystander, Irving _advised_ me not to spread it around. But yeah, It was me. In my defence, I was like 13 at the time."

Alistair shook his head. "What happened?"

"Nothing terrible. While Greagoir was fuming, Irving was standing off to the side, laughing harder than I've ever seen him, so I figured I couldn't be in _too_ much trouble." He made a fond humming sound. "They argued for the rest of the afternoon. They used to bicker even more than they do now, you know, not just serious arguing, but petty stuff, picking at the way the other dressed, Greagoir teased Irving about how he loved boring stuff like paperwork, Irving said Greagoir was jumpier than a Orlesian lapdog."

"You make them sound like an old married couple," Alistair said.

"They acted like one," Quentin said. "Still do, honestly, though maybe with less energy."

"Irving must be, what, 60 something by now?"

Quentin frowned. "I don't know." He looked down at his still incomplete tent. He reached over and took the tent peg hammer, and grabbed a couple of pegs. "I was thinking of stopping back at the Circle, actually, after Lothering. If that's ok, I mean. I have a couple of things I wanted to take care of." He pulled the tent forward so he could stick a peg in the ground.

"No problem." Alistair moved to help Quentin, holding the tent steady. They were silent for a few moments while Quentin knocked in the rest of his pegs.

"And then, after that..." Quentin looked up at Alistair.

"Then we've just got to enlist the help of three different peoples across Ferelden so we don't all die in the blight," Alistair said wryly. "Should be easy, right?"

"Nothing easier," Quentin said, shooting him a smile. He tugged on the tent, and Alistair let go so he could put in the last peg. He tied it off, then sat back on his heels. "I thought we could start with Redcliffe, what do you think? Are you familiar with the area?"

Alistair swallowed, and looked down at his hands. "I've been there before, yeah."

"Well, if you've spent any time there, you know it better than me," Quentin said.

"Right." Alistair reached for the small hammer, and put it back in his bag. "We don't really need to _explore,_ though, you hardly need me for that. Just get their support and move on."

"That's true, I guess..." Quentin watched him curiously as he tidied up the leftover tent pegs and tossed his bag into his tent. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, just... taking a lot in right now, you know? It's been a long week, darkspawn attack and all," he said, not meeting Quentin's eyes. "You should get some rest," he said, standing up. "I'll take the first watch."

"Are you sure?" Quentin asked, frowning.

"I'm not going to be getting much sleep anyway," Alistair said breezily.

Quentin nodded. "Alright. Wake me in a few hours."

"I will."

Quentin watched him take up position a few feet away, arms crossed. "Uh," he said, and Alistair turned, "do you mind if I..." He pointed at the light still floating above their tents.

Alistair shook his head. "Go ahead, I have tinder if I need light."

Quentin nodded, then crawled partway back into his tent. He waved a hand, and the yellow light fizzled out, leaving only darkness, and Alistair's silhouette imprinted on his vision. Quentin lay down on his bedroll, arms extended behind his head. Something about Redcliffe seemed to bother Alistair... but if Alistair didn't want to explain, it wasn't his place to ask. Quentin yawned. Maybe he grew up there. Maker knows he wouldn't be the first to have secrets in his past.

**Author's Note:**

>  _please don't give me crit_ , constructive or not, even if you feel the need to point out a typo, i would appreciate it if you didn't. i do this for fun, and once i've posted something, i don't really want to think about it critically anymore. thanks.


End file.
